


lust for life

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: F/F, M/M, jewish!amanda price, this was vv hard to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: it's almost 1948 and henry trilling is really starting to realise she's 30.
Relationships: Amanda Price/Henrietta Trilling, Harold Mukherjee/Bertie Wells
Kudos: 7





	lust for life

Henry never feared turning 30. But when she actually blew out the candles on her chocolate cake, it hit her harder than life ever could. She brushed her curls out of her face and smiled anyways, because she was surrounded by the people she loved, and they were all still alive.

New Year’s Eve was a hard day for her and her friends. It was about to be 1948, and Henry couldn’t believe it.

Amanda was the first to turn 30, and Alfred followed. Then Bertie, and then Harold. Finally, it was her turn. 

Sitting on the roof of their London townhouse with tears streaming down her cheeks was a calming experience, but others would’ve pegged it as sad. She was in denial, and it was a terrible trait of hers.

_ You’re not 30, it’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie- _

Amanda tiptoed onto the roof and sat herself down next to her girlfriend, frowning when she saw the tears. Amanda wrapped an arm around her, and they sat there in silence. 

“Hard to believe it, huh? I totally lost my head when it sunk in that I was 30.” she laughed softly, and Henry wanted to start crying again. 

There was a knock, and Bertie stuck his head out of the door. Amanda grinned. 

“Are we allowed up here too. I find it rather rude that you didn’t invite us to your pity party.”

Henry rolled her eyes. “What makes you so sure this isn’t a date?”

“Well, is it?” Bertie shot back. Henry shook her head. He swaggered out onto the roof and sat next to Amanda, Harold and Alfred behind him.

Contrary to what they would’ve usually done, they sat there in silence. No laughs or guffaws. Just silence. 

“Can you believe it? We missed nearly all of our twenties and now we’re fucking 30.” Alfred tore through the silence with his words, which were as sharp as a knife. 

“It’s not fair.” Bertie mumbled, and he dug his face in Harold’s shoulder. “I missed 5 of my sister's birthdays. Henry’s too. And Amanda’s. I missed 2 of Harold’s, and the ones I didn’t miss, I spent in the trenches with him. I couldn’t kiss him, couldn’t hug him. Just because of my fear of being shot at dawn.”

Harold hugged him tightly. “I would’ve rathered you missed all 5 of my birthdays instead of me being forced onto the front line. What they made me do was disgusting. They made me stand there and throw grenades into enemy trenches and they forced me to watch as smoke came out of the trenches and soldiers screamed in pain. Vishnu and Brahma will never forgive me for the lives I took and I-”

“They made you, Harold. You were a CO, even though you knew what they could’ve done to do you for it.” Amanda cut in. She was usually very vocal about how Harold was forced onto the front line, and how none of the deaths were his fault.

Amanda had spent the years of the war in hiding, because she was Jewish. She couldn’t risk being taken to Nazi Germany and killed like her parents, which left her younger sister in her custody. 

Henry still remembered the day Amanda received the letter. It was a hot day in the summer of 1943, and they were okay. They had received word from the general about Alfred, who had been in a fatal accident concerning a bomb, and he was alright. He had a prosthetic leg now, which still hurt Henry’s heart slightly. Henry also recalled when Hazel had kicked him in the leg when he arrived back home from war, only for her to realize she hadn’t actually kicked him in the leg - but kicked a piece of metal used to replace it.

They went through the post, and there was a letter addressed to Amanda. The letter was in Hebrew, and Henry watched as Amanda’s face went from neutral, to shocked, to hysteric. 

She’d been told her parents were killed. She’d also been told that since her grandmother, who was her only family left, was dying, her baby sister Cyd would have to be entrusted in Amanda’s care. 

It was about a week later when Cyd arrived, a baby of about 2 with curly hair and freckles like Amanda. Her eyes hung out of her head gauntly, and Henry could tell she had been through terrible things. 

Amanda was actually quite a good mother, treating Cyd as if she was hers. Manda asked Henry if she wanted to hyphenate Cyd’s last name and make it Price-Trilling. 

So, in 1943, Henry and Amanda had a daughter. 

It was a strange thing to think of. 

Bertie and Harold called almost immediately, spending about an hour just gushing over Cyd’s cooing. Alfred was happy to hear about it as well, even though he was mostly unconscious when they first adopted Cyd. 

Henry was still bitter about the 5 or so years they’d lost to the war, and she knew she’d never get them back, and all she could do was chase after them pathetically.

Henry leaned on her hands, lying against Amanda. “I still can’t go to Temple. My mind won’t let me. Every time I get close, I am reminded of all the people I murdered.”

Bertie wrapped his arms around Harold’s waist, shushing him softly as he fell into tears. 

“2 minutes. Then it’ll be 1948.” Alfred whispered, shuddering from the cold. 

“Promise that we’ll always be together?” Amanda asked weakly. Alfred nodded, and Harold smiled. Bertie whispered, “of course” and Henry squeezed Amanda’s hand. 

At the top of their lungs, they proceeded to go,  _ “5, 4, 3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”  _

Henry was scared for what would be of the future, but she held her head up high, for she and everyone else she loved were alive and okay. 


End file.
